Discovery
by CaptainBluebear13
Summary: The war is over, but Voldemort wasn't the only evil thing in the world. Hermione Granger is like she always was, and her intellect is only growing. What happens when a chance meeting between her and Draco Malfoy over an artifact and a trilogy send them both head first into a cruel and beautiful world? Will they be able to stand each other long enough to watch each other's backs?
1. Chapter 1

**(AN) **  
**I spent a lot of time deliberating on whether or no to type this story, let alone publish it. It's been growing in my mind forever and just begging to be written. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. Now, I love criticism, but please, lets not be nasty. I will upload when I can. I have class and a new family so I spend a lot of time with them, but I am committed to my readers. Please do give me feedback, because it gives me better lures to fish with in the pool that is my creative genius. (Or lack thereof) Either way, enjoy, and review if you feel so inclined. **

There rests a time and place for all things; each minute of every passing hour of every day, forever, had a purpose. This was Hermione Granger's creed. Past days have fallen into shadow and the memory of happiness has begun to fog. The only thing that Hermione could remember with startling clarity was that there was pain and that the War had ended. With that end, brought happiness to all others, except for Hermione; her pain seemed to be everlasting.

There was a deep and resounding ache in her chest that she knew not if it was a natural aliment or something deeper; something spiritual. She felt this pain echo in her bones and ring in her head. She soon came to realize that her pain wouldn't recover, that it was getting worse and she couldn't for the life of her understand why. One thing that she did know was that she did not intend to see anyone about it. St. Mungo's be damned. The last thing she needed was that sort of bad publicity for herself and the boys. She couldn't handle that type of attention. If she were to be honest with herself (which she always was) she didn't want any attention at all.

Her old friends couldn't understand her reclusion; they refused to remember, so she'd removed herself entirely. She remembered. She remembered everything. And it was because she remembered everything that she kept very much to herself. Hermione lived in a small cottage of in the middle of Nowhere (which was actually a twenty minutes' walk to Clovelly); Nowhere was a name she lovingly gave the rolling green hills she chose to house her little home. It was a lovely one room abode with a fireplace, a large, blissfully comfortable bed, a small table, and a cozy kitchen. Of course, every available surface was covered in books.

Self-made bookshelves were bowing with the weight of all her glorious books; she had even taken up to reading fiction, anything to take up the time, and to keep her mind full with anything but that echo. With a small garden of vegetables and herbs to tend to and a weekly visit she made to the village market, she needed nothing else.

Aside from her now very old cat, Crookshanks, she was alone. And on some days, she wondered if being alone was good enough.

Sighing to herself, she gathered her cloak about her shoulders and slipped her wand into a secure pocket stitched with thread enchanted with a concealing charm. Disregarding her shoes and leaving her hair free in a mass of coiled copper. Her white shirt shone bright in the noon-day light and her tan traveling pants bunched up about her knees as she strode out her door. If there was one thing that Hermione still had absolute confidence in, it was her mind. She smirked to herself and fingered the pendant in her pocket as she crested the hill.

Draco Malfoy was a reasonable man. That is to say as reasonable as he could be. Every so often he could feel his old sneer slip onto his cool features and his temper would rise. He found himself in this current predicament as he stared down into the beady eyes of the red-faced, flustered man before him. This portly man was currently sweating more than seemingly possible and was stuttering and sputtering to the point where Draco was about to need to step away from him to avoid getting drenched in the poor man's saliva.

He ran a hand through his silver-blond hair and then over his face before he sighed and collected his thoughts, while pinching the bridge of his nose. The man in front of him was trying desperately to explain how he had exactly he'd managed to lose the Nef'tae Pendant. He was going on and on about how _he _had been conned. His con man, the very man who could silver-tongue his way into the pants of the Queen herself if he wanted to, had been out-witted, allegedly, by a plain peasant girl in some village on the coast, a small place called Clovelly. He'd managed to lose a priceless and important artifact for _pocket change_. He'd be better off hiring this wench on.

Draco had sent him on business to collect a book, a very rare novel written by Professor Vindictus Viridian, the same man who wrote _Curses and Countercurses, _who happened to write another series of books, a trilogy about wandless magic, the true power of your familiar, and a very complicated history and detailed explanation on the Eye of Truth. It is a very old novel and no one has ever really heard about it. _Curses and Countercurses _was a book written to discredit him from the realm of serious literature, and thus, his trilogy went unnoticed when published.

The trilogy: _Magic of the Mind, Familiar Power, _and _The Truth within the Eye _are books that, in the wrong hands can be foolishly used or even used for evil purposes, and the world has had about enough of its fair share of that. No, Draco was not the same boy he was at Hogwarts. He was a man now with priorities and an open mind. Along with that, he had money and free reign over Malfoy enterprises since the death of his father. His role as president was one he passed over to his good friend Blaise Zabini. Like Malfoy, Blaise's mindset of muggle-borns had changed during the War, and he was now an advocate of Protective Services of Muggle Born Witches and Wizards.

With Blaise at the helm, Malfoy was given time to locate and keep under lock, key, and heavy wards, all potentially lethal magical items. It was a mission to keep the remaining Death Eaters as powerless as possible. Yet, even with his attempts, they were still growing more powerful, and with these books in the hands of some unsuspecting girl in Clovelly, not only was that village in danger, but the balance he was trying to maintain was. Lucky that his con man, Mumford Bleast had at least managed to get the sodding things, right?

"Please tell me you at least have the bloody books, Ford. You may have let the Nef'tae pendant slip from your greedy hands, but at least give me some good news."

Mumford looked up at Draco with pleading, frightened eyes and his stomach dropped.

"That's what I was getting to, Draco. She still has them, she took the bloody piece of jewelry and wouldn't let go of the books. One second I was scanning the village book store like you told me to for the sodding books, and the next, she was right there next to me, torn cloak and shoeless no less! Asked me if I had something shinny to sell."

Mumford wrung his hands and glanced up at Draco again, only to see that same stoic face, and took in a steady breath and continuing.

"She was a right beauty she was, I was hoping that if I flashed that pretty pedant of yers that she'd say yes to a mug of butter beer. So I showed it to her. She got this bright smile on her face and the next thing I knew, she was handing me the coins and I was handing it to her."

Draco's sneer was back and it was quickly fading into a scowl. Mumford rushed to continue, avoiding Draco's eyes and taking an unconscious step back.

"On her way out she smirked at me, and in a very superior way mind you, said that I wouldn't find the books there and that she had them, she did. Then she left."

Something about that sounded very familiar to Draco, but he didn't have much time to think about it. Now he had to get the pendant and the books and with this idiot he'd be likely to lose something else.

With a sigh Draco shoved Mumford out of the way and grabbed his coat from the back of his office chair. He slung it over his shoulders and the cool silk lining slid along his white button up shirt.

"I will retrieve the bloody things myself, Ford. I expect a report on my desk by morning on your stupidity."

With that, Draco stepped into his fireplace and snarled 'Clovelly Inn' before thrusting down the magical dust and disappearing with a burst of green flame and a faint crackling of heated air.


	2. Chapter 2

**(AN) This one is much longer but I LOVED WRITING ALL THAT TECHNICAL STUFF. If you have any questions about anything, please ask, and reviews are very much appreciated. **

Numbers, Hermione thought to herself, were wonderful, incredibly complex and interesting things. Her study of Arithmancy in school and Bill's help with the application of the finer points of it, had led her to the realization of how to use them in complex bindings to mundane and magical items. Runes made up the original casting of numbers, but simple math took it from there. Of course, if bonded to magical items incorrectly, they had the tendency to explode. Something her workshop had experienced about a year ago when she'd first attempted it.

Currently, she was finishing up the touches of the Aura around her. Each magical person had a strong Aura that encompassed them, (muggles had it too, just very weak and almost impossible to identify.) She equated the concept of Auras to the same idea behind Earth and its atmosphere. An Aura was simply a collection of magical particles drawn to people. Each person's Aura was different because your own magic and personality attracted different magical particles. Even muggles had a bit of a pull to that magic attached to. Animals were similar, but their magic was a different, wild kind that Hermione had yet to finish investigating. Interestingly enough, she hadn't had a thorough look at Crookshanks. Grouchy old thing.

Either way, Hermione was currently mentally applying the last few stitches to her strongest cloaking charm. After years of working with Harry in school and using her mind she'd tried countless times to mimic the cloak's equation to invisibility by trying to uncover its ancient rune application. Hermione posited that each magical item was something that had to of been once enchanted. Magical things don't just pop out of the ground, they are granted magical properties by their witch or wizard. Given that, she could use simple algorithms and her book of Ancient Runes to figure out the specific arithmetic pattern to any object and mimic it.

Something she had learned was that without knowing the proper spell, the equations she stitched together varied in weakness and length. Over time, she'd tested each new equation and had thoroughly documented the range of people that she had the ability to remain invisible in front of. Right now, she was using her fifth level binding to her Aura (the strongest one yet, and one only a very strong witch or wizard could possibly see through), but was learning to not underestimate the strength of magic of anyone. She thought this as a small girl pulled on her sleeve.

"I asked my mummy why you weren't wearing shoes and she got very angry with me and said, 'Bloody Hell, Rose, for the last time, no one is there.' She's not 'possed to curse."

Hermione blinked down at the little red haired girl and for a moment was totally shocked. This spell was the strongest one and every witch and wizard up to this point couldn't see her. The big brown eyes blinked up at her and Hermione smiled conspiratorially.

"I'm trying to be super sneaky. I'm playing hide and seek. No one's been able to find me, but it seems you have. Wonderfully done!"

While the little girl soaked up the praise, Hermione took the time to evaluate the girl's Aura and was astounded to find that hers was very strong and pulsating thickly. It was the strongest she'd seen and was tinted with a subtle silver lining. Peculiar.

"Say, Rose, was it?" Hermione asked and the child nodded. "Do you find you can do special things?"

The little girl shook her head vigorously and smiled. She leaned up to whisper into Hermione's ear, and Hermione dutifully leaned down.

"I can talk to the cat and make things fly around. My mummy gets angry sometimes when I move things from one place to another and she doesn't know why."

Hermione grinned down at her and ruffled her hair before doing a quick charm on a weed to turn it into a rose.

"A rose for Rose. You're a special girl, Rose. Just don't get into too much trouble with your mum. Run along now; and make sure to tell no one about my little game of hide and seek."

The little girl brought up her finger to her lips and made a 'shhh' sound and Hermione mimicked her. With a giggle and a smile, the little girl ran back to her mum, who was looking over a produce cart, transfigured rose in hand.

Hands on her hips at making another helpful discovery, Hermione gave herself a smile before making her way into the bookshop to see if Grimmsly has her ordered book in yet. She could go for a new book.

(POV)

Draco felt his body twist and turn as he was engulfed in green flame and spun unsteadily towards Clovelly Inn. In a fade of green fire, he landed gracefully in the large fireplace of the Inn and attracted the curious eye of the few occupants of the main dining area before they returned to their meals. He wiped off remaining floo powder and ash from his shoulders and made his way to the Inn Keeper who was currently drying glasses with a questionably clean cloth.

"What can I do for ye, sir? Can't say I think we have anythin' to yer likin' here." The Inn Keep placed the glass down and picked up another. Draco grimaced at the cloth before sneering.

"I think not; although, you may have some information for me. I don't suppose you've seen a girl…" Draco paused as he realized that Mumford hadn't given him a proper description. Floored by his own lack of planning, something he was proficient in, he managed to just gape at the Inn Keep like a fish. The Inn Keep was quick to point this out before ignoring him and continuing to dry his mugs with a filthy rag. About this time, he felt a small tug on the sleeve of his jacket.

He looked down into the face of a child with red hair, something that sent his mind automatically too the name 'Weasley.' She had brown eyes and a rose clutched in her hand. She was staring up at him quizzically, as if she were terribly unsure of something before she piped up.

"Are you playing Hide 'n Seek?"

Draco blinked down at her and was shocked to find that he was at a loss of words for the second time that day. The little girl pushed on anyway.

"I found the girl you were playing with. She told me no one could find her, but I did!" She smiled up at him and Draco wondered at why exactly this little girl was speaking to him. The child continued, where was this child's mother, anyway?

"You are not playing the game very fair, Mister. You're not allowed to _ask _where she is. I found her without asking. I was just standing there, and no one else seemed to see her. My mummy got very angry when I asked why she wasn't wearing any shoes, and…"

Draco interrupted her there; that sounded very familiar. He thought quickly, he need this information and this child seemed very determined that he play correctly.

"I know, I know. It's just, I've been searching all day and haven't found her. I've given up and now she's won. I need to find her to tell her so."

The little girl's ears perked up at that and she grinned up at him, she seemed to be holding that flower especially carefully.

"What does she win?"

"Pardon?"

"Winners get prizes. What's her prize?"

Draco smiled at her and looked about for something to say before spotting the rose between the child's hands.

"I have a flower to give her."

The child's eyes brightened up and practically shoved the rose in his face.

"That's what she gave me for winning! She turned a weed into this flower for me before she left. She said I was special."

She must be a witch, Draco mused. Both the girl he's after and the child. So if this was a witch, he had a bigger problem on his hands. Who knows what she'd do with those books. He felt himself pale with the thought of the pendant she had as well. He decided he needed this little girl on his side quickly. With a subtle wave of his wand he turned a coin in his pocket into a lily and the little girl gasped. He brought his finger up to his lips and she mimicked him.

"That's what she did for me!" She whispered excitedly.

"I want to give this to her for doing so splendidly at our little game, would you mind telling me that…" He left hanging for her name.

"Rose." She supplied.

"…Rose. That's a pretty name. A rose for Rose." The little girl giggled.

"That's what the lady said."

Draco smiled at her before pressing on.

"What do you say; can you tell me where she went?"

Rose screwed up her face in thought for a moment and seemed to deliberate for a great while on the answer before smiling wildly.

"She's in the bookstore, probably still hiding." She put a hand on her hip and gave him a very pointed look. "It is not very gentlemanly of you leaving her waiting…" She waited for his name.

"Draco." He said with a concealed smile, he tried to look very serious.

"…Mr. Draco. You should probably go find her now and give her your prize." Rose said with finality. Draco gave her a serious look.

"I shall. Now, why don't you go find your mum. Don't you think you've talked to enough strangers today?"

She smiled toothily at him and he realized that she reminded him of someone.

"You're no stranger, I know you. You're Mr. Draco, the guy who lost."

With that, the little girl ran off through the door and skirted down the street. Without permission, a genuine smile made its way onto his face as he stepped out of the Inn and looked about for the bookstore.

After passing by a few street vendors selling fresh fruit, vegetables, and some questionable looking fish, he spotted the swinging bookstore sign up ahead and sped up his already fast gait along the cobbled street.

The store itself rested on the corner of an intersection and looked very small from the outside. The paint on the window was worn and could barely be seen to say 'Grimmly's Books and Wares.' He strode into the store with a faint tinkling of a bell hanging overhead and nodded his greeting to the elderly man sitting behind the register, reading a book – upside down no less.

"Can I help you find anything, sir? Got something in mind, do you?" He assumed this was 'Grimmly' and shook his head to answer.

"No, I think I'll have a look around."

The older man nodded, more to himself than to him, Draco guessed. He moved out of the entry and into the store. The shelves were packed and seemed to be in no particular order. Draco guessed that if he'd actually needed to find anything, he would have needed assistance. Lucky for him, he was just looking for _someone._

As he rounded the corner he was momentarily blinded by the sunlight that was streaming through a large window. As his eyes adjusted, that grew wide in shock and disbelief. There, in front of him, sat Hermione _bloody _Granger.

Of course it all made sense: the out witting of his con man, the possessor of the books. She sat there; oddly prim for what she was wearing. A tattered cloak and what appeared to be men's breeches with no shoes. She still had crazy hair; it seemed a bit smoother now, but still just as wild. It sat atop her head like some sort of wild animal frozen in mid-frenzy.

She was holding some muggle novel delicately in her hands and had her legs crossed, one of which was bobbing up and down off-beat. He stepped closer, as if to see if she was real instead of a trick of the light, or maybe really just someone else. Still, her name managed to make its way out of his mouth in the form of a question.

"Granger?"

Startled, Hermione looked up at him wide eyed and spotted the lily he had in his left hand and noted his gaping expression. He quickly shut his mouth, ashamed he'd been caught off-guard so many times in one day.

Apparently, Hermione was having a hard time processing it all too. Although, she seemed to recover much more quickly before he did as her face broke out into a mischievous smile. A small tickling of fear in the pit of his stomach snaked its way in and he stiffened.

Wordlessly, she reached out, and with a single finger she disaparated them both.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So, I'm sorry I haven't updated in FOREVER. I've had finals and then I slept for quite some time before I was even close to mentally prepared to write this out. I am sorry in advance for any mistakes. I managed to catch the bigger ones, but alas, I cannot spell. The person (and very good friend of mine) who was supposed to Beta it for me decided she'd go to bed early for the first time this week and subsequently, I had no editor. I just HAD to get this out for you. By the way: your reviews are awesome. You are all awesome. REVIEWS KEEP ME ALIVE. Please do not hesitate to ask questions or critique. This is a big chapter, so strap in!**

Draco landed with a bit of a stumble but had to admit that the disaparate Hermione had used was by far the smoothest and least nauseating he'd ever had the pleasure to experience. After the world spun into place he came to realize that he was standing in the middle of the country in front of a small cottage.

Before he had the chance to utter one question, he was caught off guard by a sudden sharp pain followed closely by a stinging burn. Hermione was in front of him; he could see her wand nowhere and had not seen her utter a word. She looked at him curiously for a long moment and before he could open his mouth to demand answers he felt the same pain again, but stronger.

Furious with the dawning knowledge that someone was hexing him, he drew his wand and cast a ward about him just in time to see another, stronger hex explode on the shield in a burst of blue-white light.

"Put down your wand, Malfoy."

"Who the bloody hell do you have attacking me, mudblood?!" He seethed, reverting back to his old, arrogant ways.

"You and I are the only ones present, Malfoy, for miles. Now, PUT. DOWN. YOUR. WAND!" On the last word, her fists clenched and her teeth ground together and a gust of wind blew his ward away, sending broken fragments of magic tinkling into the air. The air around Hermione crackled with energy and it seemed to darken around her.  
Shocked, and admittedly – embarrassingly - he became afraid; and so complied, tucking his wand into his pocket before holding his hands up in surrender.

"The wand is away, Granger. What exact..."

His sentence was cut off sharply as he was hit squarely in the chest with another hex. Instinctively, his hand went for his wand only to find it gone. He looked up at Hermione with an expression of fear and confusion. Only to find his wand secured in the waistband of her trousers.

"I told you to leave your wand be, Malfoy. Now, parry my attacks!"

Confused and thoroughly concerned for his well-being, he met her calm face and soft brown eyes with wide silver ones.

"I'm unarmed! Are you bloody mad?!"

"You are not unarmed! Use your head, Malfoy!" Hermione said furiously while pointing savagely to her own head. She stared intently at a spot in front of her eyes and he was shocked to see a small ball of light coalesce I front of her. As it gathered energy, it began to crackle with electricity and pulse with strong blue light. Draco felt his stomach drop as Hermione broke her gaze from the ball of energy to bore her eyes into his.

"Ready?" She whispered.

Before he could plead with her, she sent it hurtling towards him. Without thinking, he thrust his hands protectively in front of his face and prayed fervently to any god who was listening. He felt strength gather quickly in his chest and course down his muscled forearms.

The ball if light and energy collided inches in front of Malfoy's hands, and he felt a pleasant warmth fill his chest. He looked up into Hermione's face to find her smiling with her hands in her hips.

"Right." She said, nodding, more to herself then to him. She continued nodding to herself and mumbling incoherently as she turned on her heel and walked into a small cottage.

Draco stood there, numb, for a few moments before he felt a new warmth, one of anger, bloom in his chest. He stalked after her and shoved her door open with a slam, thoroughly starling her from her deep thought.

"What in merlin's name do you think you were doing? And give me my wand back at once!"

After being thoroughly startled, Hermione quickly schooled her expression and offered a small smile to him before turning around to fiddle with whatever it was she was fiddling with.

"I was testing you, Malfoy, and you passed. Congratulations. Also, your wand is in your pocket."

A quick pat to his left pants' pocket proved to him that his wand was indeed there. Malfoy was distressed by the new development, Hermione was surprisingly calm now and he was unsure what was causing her extreme changes in mood. He found himself staring intently at Hermione's back. Her cloak had been discarded and her plain white shirt was clearly disheveled and wrinkled. It was tucked half in and half out of her loose trousers and her feet were bare and slightly dirty.

She was pushing up the sleeve of her shirt and although he could not see, it appeared as if she was tying off something just above her elbow. Hermione turned to face him and Draco was shaken; she was administering something to herself via syringe. She seemed rather schooled in her movements and only winced slightly as she punctured lightly tanned, smooth skin with the cool needle. She pushed the clear, seemingly harmless liquid into her blood stream before removing the needle and bandaging her arm up. Malfoy was transfixed.

After throwing everything away and sterilizing her equipment she turned to face him fully, hands on her hips. He noticed that she looked very tired and had dark circles under her eyes. She certainly looked worse for wear. Malfoy shook that thought from his head before he could figure out why it was he cared.

Hermione gestured to a small chair just to his right, it was covered in books. Naturally. She seated herself on the arm of a chair across from his, an odd pink sofa with what seemed to be a very old cat slumbering in the center. With another speechless bout of magic, she moved all of them to a safe spot on the floor and he settled himself down, surprised to find the chair incredibly comfortable. The only real down side is that it smelt exactly like Hermione did. Like books, warm sunshine, coffee with an underlying tea aroma. It was there towards the end of his sensory analysis he realized there was a sharp acrid smell underneath it all. It was faint and the moment he got ahold of what it smelt like, the smell vanished, and so did his musings.

He looked up into the calm, calculating, warm, cinnamon-brown eyes of Hermione Granger and tried desperately to organize his thoughts. It was damn hard surrounded by her smell. When he seemed to be settled as much as he could be, Hermione started the conversation. Her forward nature and blunt personality seemed to still be quite intact.

"You are probably wondering how I came to have The Trilogy in my possession and where they and my pendant are."

Oh yes, the bloody books and the pendant. His mood noticeably darkened, and so did his clear grey eyes; turning into hard, flashing silver.

"You've hit the nail on the fucking head, mudblood."

Hermione straightened her back and seemed to gain a few inches on her perch as she looked down with barely concealed disgust. Malfoy felt a tickle of pride at ruffling her feathers, but a smaller, more human part of his brain felt the first itch of guilt.

"You will refrain from calling me that, Malfoy. I extend you the same courtesy."

Draco seethed at her haughty tone and implied question as to the purity of his blood.

"You have no reason to call me a mudblood, Granger. My blood is pure."

"Do not be dense, Malfoy, it doesn't suit you. Words and phrases are meaningless; all they do is give form to ideas, thoughts, and feelings. It is the tone used and the insinuation behind the word that bothers me. Scorn." Hermione snorted. "It is as unattractive as it is unhelpful in your current predicament; or any event involving me, for that matter." Hermione sniffed and turned the full force of her gaze upon him, riveting him to his seat. "Now, if it information you want, and questions answered that you seek, I suggest you keep your mind in check."

Malfoy was properly chastised but was still clinging onto the bits of his pride he could grasp.

"Still a bloody know-it-all? Still convinced you're better than the rest of us."

The itch of guilt he felt previously became more pronounced when instead of becoming angry, her gaze softened and she offered him a small smile.

"I apologize if I've come off as condescending or superior in any way. I believe us to be equal intellectually."

A silence descended between them as Draco considered her words and found himself to be much more lacking than he had thought originally. Draco held no stock or belief in the bible, but there was an old adage from the book of Daniel that he thought applied to him now, "You have been weighed in the balances and have been found deficient."

Hermione's nature and true light was practically shinning from her fingertips and he realized with a disturbing kind of clarity that he thought he had changed for the better, but in contrast to her goodness and character, he was still dingy. He had smudges across his character; a great lot of personality flaws and angst built up over a great nothing and maintained by the speaking of old men; namely his father. He was still influenced by the sick prejudices of his Old Man and he felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of turning out anything like his father had.

Draco felt distanced from himself suddenly as the great weights of his flaws were lifted and the secure weight of his determination to not be like his father settled down upon him. It gave him a sort of purpose and he relished in the glow of it for a moment before coming back to reality and taking another, closer, look at Hermione Granger.

She was thinner than his mind remembered and had a bit of a haunted look about her. For how sickly she appeared she actually seemed to have gotten some color over time; most of it was in a dark spray of freckles across every inch of her skin. Her eyes held all her fire though; they were ablaze and crazy, almost as much as that ridiculously curly hair. She was a sight to see, even in the attire she was currently sporting.

He realized that he hadn't heard anything about her for a fair amount of time now. Potter and Weasley had been seen enough around the bits of wizarding world; both had made appearances, and both had women on their arms at every event. The girl-Weasley was attached to Potter, which everyone had seen coming. Yet it was who was gripping the youngest Weasley boy's arm that had caught his attention. And it had warranted attention because where he expected to see a Granger that had grown into her womanly assets, he'd seen Lavender Brown; a woman who still appeared a girl.

It had shocked him enough to ask about the ball room as to the gossip behind that particular arrangement and everyone had seemed just as nonplussed. Apparently, Granger had disappeared not too long after the war and left Weasley and Potter both. At the time he had still been the awful git he had been in school and went over promptly to prod them about it. Weasley had turned red with a sort of rage and been reduced to sputtering and Potter made some comment along the lines of, "Shove off, Malfoy." And that was the end of that.

In no future Malfoy ever considered did he imagine this to be the state he found Granger in. House full of books, yes. Still with that mangy cat, of course. But sickly and alone, totally cut off from that Golden Trio? Not at all. Nor did he imagine he'd ever be there to see it.

"What exactly are you doing out here? What has you secluded away from the rest of the wizarding world?"

Hermione smiled warmly at him and relaxed her stiff pose.

"Ah, and so begins the questions. I was wondering when you would shake yourself from all that thinking." She gestured to her head, and even though it was much more calmly done this time, he still couldn't help but remember the crazed look she had when she was dueling him earlier. _Use your head, Malfoy. _She carried on, seemingly unfazed by his shiver at the memory. "You do not disappoint, and I admire and appreciate that you aren't one to beat about the bush." She rose from her perch on the arm of the chair with an absent-minded pet to her sleeping cat and brushed off her trousers. "Can I interest you in some tea? I believe you'd enjoy some Chai tea with a touch of milk. Odd taste, I can only name a few besides myself who like it."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her spot-on guess at the tea he fancied. She seemed full of surprises; and for a moment Draco relaxed and forgot about the books and pendant. He smiled faintly.

"Read my palm, did you? Or perhaps you have a crystal ball hidden that you divined that information from."

Hermione smiled at him, a half smile that showed of a dimple just under her mouth, to the left of her chin. His heart gave and unfamiliar and unpleasant lurch before quieting down.

"Oh, you know I'm not keen on any of that mess." She waved her hand dismissively. "Aleksei told me." With that, she turned on her heel and headed into the kitchen. Draco's brow creased.

Aleksei? That name sounded incredibly foreign. He certainly had never heard of him before. In the distance, Draco heard thunder and saw a flash of lighting light up the small room that had been darkened considerably. Hermione's kitchen was just to the side of the living area and he could see her preparing the kettle.

What if this Aleksei person was all in her head? Was she hearing things? Manifesting people and giving them personalities? Suddenly the thought of those books and that pendant in her possession was getting increasingly more frightening. Had Granger lost her mind? Draco frowned at her back.

"Stop making faces." She said suddenly, back still turned. Draco froze. Either she knew him well enough to gauge when his mood was disturbed, or she was speaking to 'Aleksei.' He suddenly felt very uncomfortable and his palms were sweating. He was in this tiny cottage with a madwoman; and to boot, she was one of the strongest witches he knew.

She turned around and Draco pulled all of his emotions inside, creating a stoic mask. She walked back to the sitting area and set down a tray of tea cups, saucers, a pot, spoons, and a small container of milk and one of sugar. Draco noted that there were three cups.

"I know you're thinking I'm crazy. I'm not. Blaise is here." Draco's mouth dropped open and realized that she wasn't just crazy, she was bloody mad! There was no seemingly good escape plan. His fingers flexed and he felt his forehead broke out into a sweat. He was in a room, having tea, with a mad woman.

Hermione poured a not too generous dollop of milk into her cup before waving a hand at the door, which promptly flew open. To his immense surprise, a thoroughly rained-on Blaise strode through the door, offering a smile to Hermione before turning to see Draco.

"Oh, nice to see you, Draco. Have to admit, you look a touch out of your element."

Draco shook his head and considered the last few hours of his life before concluding that he, in fact, was the one who was mad.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So this is a MONSTER. God. 5,720 words or something like that. This was emotionally draining. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get the ball going with this story, I just feel like there's so much to lay down before-hand. If you're hoping for a quick development, this is NOT the story for you.  
I hope you've all had a marvelous holiday season and that this update finds you in good health. Please don't hesitate to ask any questions. I will answer them as long as it doesn't give away too much plot.  
ANYWAY. I want to thank two people, one of which is a friend that I send chapters to on facebook who keeps prodding me and asking when I'm going to kick it into gear. She keeps me feeling just guilty enough to write. I also love that she's always excited to read what I have.  
Secondly is Welch's-Grapejuice. Helpful reviewer and supporter on FF as well as real life friend who continually inspires me and encourages me to 'bleed.'** **Seriously, without you I would be less than what I am. You're wonderful.  
To the rest of you who have reviewed, added me to your favorites, or followed me, I thank you for your support. I post for you and for future readers. **

The next few hours were incredibly mind-blowing and life-altering. When Draco looked back on his chance encounter with Hermione Granger, he would be doing it with a mixture of gratitude that it had happened along with adoration, and would promptly get a headache.

The reason behind his headaches for years to come was currently hugging the living daylights out of his best mate, and her enthusiasm was returned. Out of all the people in the world he would of thought would happen to join them that night in the small, cramped cottage, Blaise wouldn't have even made the list. Draco understood now that he did not know as much about his friend as he thought he did and wondered if it was because Blaise resigned to not speak about himself or if Draco never really asked.

Blaise was an interesting man and Draco supposed that his mystery was what predominately made him remarkable. For someone who was a president of one of the largest companies in the world, Blaise had never made ripples. As far as Draco knew, he never even stuck a toe in anything less than noble. His intentions with Hermione didn't bring up any suspicion in Draco's mind.

Once again, Draco felt like an awful git. Here was a man who he claimed was a friend of his, his best friend, in fact, and he didn't even know about his apparent relationship with Granger.

"Do you have those new properties to the Angel's Trumpet Draught and the Nestilia Potion along with the new Muggle-born manifesto?" Blaise asked

"I am offended that you would think otherwise, Blaise." Hermione smirked before skirting around a large coffee table covered in books to what appeared to be a back door out of the little cottage. "Let me get the notes out of my workshop. Help yourself to some tea."

With that, Hermione left Blaise and Draco in the small abode, alone. The only one who seemed uncomfortable at all was Draco, and Blaise poured himself a half cup of tea and topped it off with milk. He stirred it leisurely and sat down on the sofa Hermione had previously occupied. The cat, Crookshanks, seemed to be used to his company and got up to stretch before rubbing against Blaise's free hand affectionately.

"Are you and Granger…together?" Out of all the questions Draco had, he seemed rather shocked that the first one he asked was trivial. Blaise simply smirked at him and let a chuckle slip before taking an exorbitant amount of time sipping from his tea.

"No, Draco. Hermione and I, we are just old friends." Blaise supplied. It was a relatively vague answer. Draco felt a headache bloom in his head just behind his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This is all very confusing." Draco admitted. His friend and colleague gave him another half-smile.

"I imagine so. You've stumbled upon a rare gem, Malfoy." Blaise set his tea down to free his hands in order to pet Crookshanks properly.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I'll start from the beginning, shall I?" With a nod from Draco, Blaise began. "Malfoy Enterprises, as you know, is a company with many facets and employs witches and wizards alike with many different skill sets. One of our most important employees - who resigned to work under the table and anonymously - is the one and only Hermione Granger. She is responsible for more than half of our New Potion department and has designed many new spells and hexes in her spare time." Draco was almost speechless.

"And the Muggle manifesto?" He questioned.

"All of the manifestos, except for the original, along with negotiations have been planned and written by 'Mione." Blaise said simply and Draco tried to ignore the nickname he'd given her.

Draco took his time chewing on the new information. It was somewhat disconcerting and embarrassing that someone had such a hand in his company and he did not know about it. Draco supposed that was because of Granger's wish to remain anonymous; one which Blaise had granted, to the point of not even telling Draco.

"How long exactly has this been going on?" Draco questioned, gesturing to the door Hermione had recently departed through. Blaise turned his head and stared at the door a while, petting Crookshanks absently and in, what appeared to be, deep thought. Crookshanks gave a contented meow before jumping off Blaise's lap and trotting over to the back door and disappearing through a flap in the bottom. Before he left, Crookshanks cast what Draco could only describe as a disapproving glare over his shoulder.

"Did 'Mione bring you here?" Blaise asked. Draco scowled.

"She disapparated without explanation; just grabbed me along for the ride." Blaise smiled; something Draco realized he didn't see his friend do often.

"Yes, well, she has an uncanny knack for the dramatic when she feels she's on to something." There was a pause where Blaise looked pointedly at Draco before grabbing his tea to finish it off. Draco was about to ask what exactly Granger was 'on to' when Blaise carried on. "I suppose if she brought you here she's not particularly adverse to me explaining things. She'll be a while longer yet; she gets lost in that workshop of hers. I swear it's a rabbit hole." Blaise smiled fondly at that and Draco bet that there was a joke than ran between his best mate and Granger about it. He wasn't sure how he felt about the familiarity they had. He supposed Granger might know more about Blaise than he did.

Blaise settled into the chair and brushed the cat hair from his pants before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

"One afternoon, about six years ago, I got a letter from Hermione. At the time, I was at my house and leafing through the legal paperwork for Chestwood after the incident with Hardin – you know, the one with the little mudblood hunt he'd organized – and admittedly, I felt a tad bit hopeless. Here I was, trying to give Chestwood and his family the settlement he deserved, but the manifesto had some pretty serious loopholes and I just _knew _that Hardin's lawyer and the fact he's old money – almost as old as yours – was going to get him out of this one. Then out of nowhere, this flash of light goes off in the center of my desk and just about sends me to the floor." Blaise chuckled at the memory and refocused his eyes on Draco for a moment, smirk on his face. "Told you she was dramatic when she was on to something."

Blaise ran a hand over his face and absently rubbed his jaw, a move Draco _did _know as a sign he was trying to recollect something. Blaise threw his hands out to the side and flipped his wrist; Draco noted he talked with his hands often.

"This letter just floated down from the light onto my desk. I just sat there and stared at it, wondering what the bloody hell was happening and hoping I wasn't going mad. Before long, I opened it and found myself in possession of a letter from Hermione Granger herself. I was very shocked; you and I both know that no one had seen hide or hair of her since the war and here I was being contacted by her.

The letter itself was scathing and I felt like I was being reprimanded by my Gran. She had enclosed a copy of the original manifesto and the thing was positively _littered _with added sections, marked out phrases, and at least three pages of _extra_ amendments. Attached was the letter in which she explained what all the loopholes were and how we could win the settlement case for Chestwood vs. Hardin. She also wished for me to send money to them anonymously, the money I would have paid her for her legal advice and for the work she put in on the manifesto. She was a bit cheeky towards the end of her letter, assuming I'd use her amended version; and I did.

As you know, we won that case and I decided that sending a letter of thanks wasn't what she wanted. Instead, the paper was informed about the anonymous donation to the Chestwoods and I introduced the new manifesto to the Council. I didn't hear from her for months."

Blaise stopped for a moment, rubbing his hand over his face and giving time for Draco to soak everything in. A muffled explosion was heard from outside and the small cottage rattled, causing a few books to fall to the floor and the tea set to clatter together. Blaise waved a hand and went about the room to pick up the books that had fallen.

"She's just caught up in something; nothing to worry about." Draco was unconvinced.

"So she just goes and blows herself up for fun?"

Blaise turned to eye Draco darky for a moment before he spoke up again. Draco thought that this was the most he'd heard his friend in one sitting.

"What exactly she does outside of the work for the company is something you should ask _her _to explain."

Draco was thoroughly shocked at being scolded and snapped his mouth shut as Blaise went about straightening things before he settled down again to pick up where he left off in the tale.

"After a few months, I thought that was to be the last contact anyone would have from the ever elusive Hermione Granger. The manifesto was acting marvelously and less and less Purebloods were harassing and attacking muggleborns. We even saw less activity in the remaining death eaters.

It was once again afternoon, though admittedly later than the last time she'd contacted me, and it was pissing outside. I was in the process of looking over the payroll information and making sure all of our expenses and profit evened out when she apparated directly into the middle of my living room. I don't know how she did it. She got past all my wards _while _apparating. She still finds it hilarious and likes to rub it in when she can.

She and I just stared at each-other for a while and then she grasped my shoulder and disapparated. Suddenly I was in front of the cottage and she was fighting me. I was confused and not understanding. I'm guessing she did the same to you. She tested you." Blaise held a hand up to quiet Draco's questions. "Another story for another time; one 'Mione will explain."

"For all the answers you've given, I'm still bloody confused." Blaise snorted at Draco's comment.

"I would hope so. If you had even the smallest grip on the enormity of everything I would be very surprised and slightly concerned. As far as I know, up until this point, Luna, myself, and now you are the only ones who know anything." Draco raised an eyebrow at that.

"Looney Lovegood? _She's _in on this mess?" Blaise's expression seemed to darken for a moment and the first scowl he'd seen in a long time – since their school days to be exact – took over his best friend's face.

"You will refrain from calling her that, Malfoy." Draco, surprised at his friend's sudden change in demeanor, and nodded numbly. Blaise continued on with the story, careful to avoid the subject of Luna again.

"When she was done with her test, happy I passed, she invited me in for tea. We talked for a while, where she told me that she was glad I found her notes on the manifesto useful and that she was pleased to see the money went to the family. In thanks for basically doing as she asked, she offered up her research for our Potions Department and would later contribute to the New Spells department as well.

Every now and then I come by and check on her, or she'll summon me when she's done with something. Since she's under the table she has no real dead line, although sometimes I'm forced to ask her to work on a time frame."

Blaise seemed to be done, so Draco felt it time to ask a question.

"How much do you pay her? I mean, I've never seen her name on payroll, obviously. I've also not seen a real increase in any of our other expenses."

Blaise sunk in the chair and suddenly looked very tired; Draco was also shocked to see sadness there as well. A soft clearing of a throat drew Malfoy's attention to the back door where he was startled to see Granger.

She was leaning heavily against the doorframe and seemed to be catching her breath. Her hair had been taken out of its tie and hung loosely about her shoulders, gleaming in the firelight. Her clothes looked a little charred and blackened and she smelt faintly of smoke; something Draco attributed to the explosion they'd heard earlier.

"Ah, yes: the matter of payment. You are right; there isn't a large increase in anything that Malfoy Enterprises buys that would indicate allotment of funds to any individual. You should be proud you have an empire of loyal employees, because I'm convinced it would be easy to skim money off of you." Hermione pushed herself off the doorframe and moved to take the tea tray into the kitchen. Blaise stopped her and took it himself, looking pointedly at Hermione.

"Sit." He commanded. There was this voice that Blaise got when he was serious and expected to be obeyed. It was very deep and stern and could make just about anyone feel small. Hermione seemed completely unfazed and just smiled up at him as she sat heavily down in the chair. Draco noticed Blaise's expression had softened and he gave Hermione a small smile in return before taking everything to the kitchen. Draco's attention was called back to Granger as she let out a long sigh, one that sounded like she had the weight of the very world on her shoulders.

"It appears as if everything is in working order because for the most part, Blaise pays me in ingredients. He buys me everything I need to make prototypes, but he also buys me various other potion ingredients that are a tad too rare for me to get my hands on. Any actual money I get is from his own pocket."

Blaise re-entered the small sitting area and Hermione stopped her explanation to root around in her pockets. She pulled out a small bag, purple and encrusted with a few simple jewels. It was the only thing that looked even slightly fancy and expensive that he'd seen in the entire cottage. Hermione slipped her hand inside and pulled out a book, a ream of paper, and four vials; each labeled meticulously. She carefully handed it all over to Blaise who promptly deposited it all into his pocket; allowed, no doubt, by an extension charm.

"Thanks a bunch, 'Mione." Blaise leaned over and planted a kiss atop her head, then straightened and clapped his hands together. "Right. Well, I'm off. I have a dinner date that I'd hate to miss. Play nice, you two."

Without any further ado, Blaise stepped from the cottage, and the clap of his disapparating was lost amongst the roaring rain and thunder.

Draco was having a difficult time processing everything, and subsequently looked a bit peckish. His entire life, at least the one he'd built for himself after the war, seemed to turn on its head. His friend was vastly different than he'd ever cared to find out, and seemed to be on very good terms with Granger. Of all people, Granger, the girl who snubbed just about everyone in school and flaunted her above-intelligence to anyone who was unfortunate enough to listen.

On top of everything else, his company, who he had put in the hands of a friend he'd thought he knew, was basically supported by the plethora of products Granger was producing.

"You know, not that I don't enjoy all this reminiscing, but weren't you here for a specific reason?" Hermione's voice cut through Draco's internal thought-battlefield and called his attention to her face. "I hope you understand that the books and pendant will be staying with me." Draco scowled.

"The intention is to keep them out of dangerous hands, Granger. What use do you have of them anyway?"

Draco knew that under his callous demeanor he was really just incredibly curious. Like Granger, he was an intellectual who loved learning and having questions answered more than anything.

"You should know better than anyone that the books would interest me even if they held no power. As for the pendant, I got that square." Hermione's mouth twitched into an almost-smile as she traced a square in the air with her finger. Then, in an afterthought, said, "You should probably look into a better middle-man, Malfoy."

Draco's temper was escalating and dangerously close to exploding. It shouldn't bother him so much that Granger was getting a kick out of all this. It shouldn't have bothered him that Mumford lost the pendant to Granger and that she had the books, because no one was more capable at keeping it all safe. He knew that Granger had more wards on her little cottage than Gringotts and that all of her things were most likely charmed against theft. Yet, this wasn't the problem.

To Draco, the issue was that it was _her_.

That it was Hermione bloody Granger who had the books and taken the pendant right out from under him; Granger, who was apparently on very good terms with his best mate. This was the girl who had excelled at _everything _in school. Who somehow managed to take _extra _classes and the only one to ever score higher than him; higher than anyone. A girl who had parents who loved her, and was a hero; she was golden.

"You just love this, don't you? You love having the upper hand." Draco seethed.

Hermione looked at him suddenly, _really looked_. Draco felt a certain weight under her gaze as her stare became a mix of intense understanding and extreme exhaustion. She took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand over her face before placing it over her heart. At first Draco thought it was a gesture of sincerity but a wince overtook her face and he realized it was placed there in pain.

"Look, Malfoy. I didn't bring you here to rub this in your face. _You _found _me. _Under the circumstances I saw an opportunity and acted on it. Now, if you're done calling me names and questioning my character in an attempt at covering up your own insecurities, by all means, leave."

With that, Hermione stood up on shaky legs and spared no second glance to him as she made a silent exit out to her workshop; and Draco sat. He sat and stared at the place where Granger had previously been. She'd hit the nail on the head; with the bit about his insecurities.

It was then that Draco made his exit. Just as quietly as Granger had, he left through the front door and disapparated in the stormy night to Malfoy Manor; his mind heavy and curiosity peaked.

-Hermione Granger-

Everything was slow, and heavy, and dark. Her workshop was black and cold and the rain's staccato beat on its roof was mind-numbing, and for a moment it almost lulled her to sleep. She waited for what felt like an eternity to feel Malfoy disapparate from her home. She was tired and run down and all-around _fed up._

It would be so much easier to just sleep forever. To not wake up and let someone else take care of the problem. To take care of the darkness. She had them locked up and under control, but her heart couldn't take it. She was drowning in darkness and no one would save her. She couldn't let anyone save her.

Hermione made her way back into the house, careful to let Crookshanks in before she locked up and strengthened all her wards. She extinguished all the lights and lit a candle; taking it over to her bed and sitting it on her nightstand before collapsing onto her soft mattress. She felt warmth settle over her and a faint breeze caressed her cheek.

"You work yourself too hard, child." Aleksei's deep voice soothed her heavy mind and she turned to smile up at him.

"If I don't, who will?" Hermione asked, tears forming in her eyes. She took in a steadying breath and looked into the flame of her candle.

She had known before she picked up the Trilogy that her wand was sentient. However, it wasn't until after she read it that she learned it was a being that existed within the wand. It gave a whole new meaning to the term, 'the wand chooses the wizard.' She had spent days trying to speak with it. She'd forgotten books, potions, everything, and just sat on her bed and _tried_.

_Sunlight streamed through Hermione's curtains and warmed a spot on the carpet, one in which Crookshanks was currently basking in. It hadn't taken her long to figure out how to connect with Crookshanks. The book in the Trilogy was very specific and to the point about them. Once she made the connection – which involved understanding that not everything is what it seems – Crookshanks had grown into his full potential. He became a large jungle cat, fierce and wild; and very irritated at being fed wet cat food. _

_Crookshanks abandoned his reading and rolled onto his back to expose a white, fluffy belly to the sun. He cracked an eye open and stared up at his Master. _

_"Have you tried understanding?" When he spoke his mouth opened and appeared to speak, but his voice seemed to resound in her head more than it did in the room. A fly-away hair flew into her face and she blew it to the side and fleetingly thought it was a bit too warm in her cottage. _

_"Yes, yes. With you it was easy, but with my wand…it's different. I guess it's because you are real. You have substance and you're _physical_. According to the book, the being that is my wand, it manifests. It's much harder to accept something's real when you cannot see."_

_Crookshanks grunted in understanding and rolled over to stretch; then promptly pranced over to her bed and joined her._

_"Humans, specifically Muggles, seem to have an easy enough time believing in things they cannot see." Hermione blew out a breath in irritation._

_"Yes, and those notions of a god, goddess, or deity of any kind annoys me just as much as divination. There's no actual science to any of that. Faith," she snorted, "is just an excuse to justify the existence of something you have no proof of."_

_Crookshanks nodded his head solemnly and pawed at her wand. _

_"I'm not arguing with you on this. Think of it this way: some of your human philosophers say that you see and understand life like this because you create your reality. This means that you have pre-conceived notions of what everything is and what it all means before you allow it to grow. When you define things without knowing them, you put them in a box. You create your own deception." Crookshanks allowed her to absorb the information while he cleaned his face; a lick to his left paw and a pass over his face. _

_ Hermione took her Familiar's words to heart and tried again. This time, she accepted that her wand wasn't just what it appeared to be. She allowed her mind to open to the possibility that there was something _beyond_ the piece of wood. _

_Crookshanks' ears twitched and he stopped his cleaning and looked over Hermione's shoulder to the corner of the small cottage. Hermione blinked and when her eyes opened, her wand was gone. She blinked several times before looking up to Crookshanks, irritation crossed her freckled features and a headache bloomed behind her eyes. _

_"Have you gone and knocked my wand off the bed…" Her scolding was cut short as a deep voice with what sounded like a Russian accent rumbled through the small cottage._

_"You are Familiar." The baritone rattled Hermione and she followed the cat's gaze to the corner. _

_There stood a large man, with ink black hair that seemed to shine with blue and purple ripples of color. His eyes were sharp and a deep forest-green that reminded Hermione of rolling hills and ancient trees. His skin was a deep tan and his cheekbones were very pronounced. There was something off about his features that made her feel like she was gazing at someone otherworldly. _

_The silence was broken by Crookshanks' snort of indignation. _

_"And you are unimpressive." With that he hopped off the bed and made his way back to his sun-spot and fell asleep. Hermione tried to gather her wits about her. _

_"I….uh. Hmmm. I'm Hermione Granger. This is all very confusing. You're my wand, and now…well…you aren't." _

_That day had been very long and very tiring. Aleksei had introduced himself as a guardian spirit; who was quick to dismiss the claim to being celestial and explained that he was a magical creature of sorts. Much like her Familiar, Crookshanks, he had chosen her to protect and aid her. _

_He explained that every wand had potential to manifest. It just took a very strong, and a realized witch or wizard to tap into their wand's power, thus manifesting them. It was all about understanding, and accepting that not everything was its face value. _

_It was after those days, of connecting with her Familiar and Aleksei, which Hermione began to feel less alone. Yet, it was also then that the darkness crept in closer and she had to battle to keep the demons locked away. Hermione felt lighter. Crookshanks then felt it time to interrupt the silence. _

_"Do me a favor, O Protector, and turn the page for me. I seem to be thumb-impaired."_

Hermione chuckled at the memory and looked to Crookshanks affectionately. The cat was truly cantankerous.

"Sing to me?" Hermione asked, looking up to Aleksei. He sat there, on the edge of her bed as she magicked herself into some bedclothes before snuggling under the covers.

"Yeah, Protector, lull us to sleep." Crookshanks added, jumping up onto the bed and curling up next to Hermione.

"Close your eyes." Aleksei commanded; and there descended a deep silence in which eyes slid closed and breathing slowed to a comfortable rhythm.

"U lukomoriya dub zelenyi  
Zlataya tsep' na dube tom  
I dniem i nochyu kot uchyonyi  
Vsyo khodit po tsepi krugom  
Idet napravo - pesn' zavodit,  
Nalevo - skazku govorit.  
Tam chudesa, tam leshiy brodit,  
Rusalka na vetviakh sidit;  
Tam na nevedomykh dorozhkakh  
Sledy nevidannykh zverei;  
Izbushka tam na kuryikh nozhkakh  
stoit bez okon, bez dverei;  
Tam les i dol videnii polny;  
Tam o zare prikhlynut volny  
Na breg peschany i pystoi,  
I tridsat' vityazei prekrasnykh  
Chredoi iz vod vykhodyat yasnykh,  
i s nimi dyadyka ikh morskoi;  
Tam koroletitch mimokhodom  
Plenyaet groznogo tsarya;  
Tam v oblakakh pered narodom  
Cherez lesa, cherez morya  
Koldun nesyot bogatyrya;  
V temnitse tam tsarevna tuzhit,  
A buryi volk ei verno sluzhit;  
Tam stupa s Baboiu Iagoi  
Idet, bredyot sama soboi,  
Tam tsar' Kashchey nad zlatom chakhnet;  
Tam russkiy dukh... tam Rusiyu pakhnet!  
I ya tam byl, i myod ya pil;  
U moria videl dub zelyonyi;  
Pod nim sidel, i kot uchyonyi  
Svoi mne skazki govoril."

As the last lyric rolled off of Aleksei's tongue, the candle light went out and the cat and the child fell into a deep sleep; and a wand materialized into the hand of the girl, and she dreamt.

_Consciousness faded into blackness and for a great while, she floated. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered and opened only to find herself sitting in a giant cup of tea. _

_"Chai, from the sound of it." A watery voice commented, and Hermione looked up to see Crookshanks in his full form, swimming at the other end of a tea-cup. _

_"Sorry? I'm not sure why I'm squatting in tea. I haven't got my umbrella." She whispered, and found herself to be very troubled that she was caught somewhere without her umbrella. _

_"Tricksy, did Draco steal it? He left in quiet a tizzy." Crookshanks commented leisurely before submerging into the depths of the tea cup, disappearing entirely. _

_"I don't like it. It's wet and I don't care for space-time singularity." Aleksei quipped from his perch on the edge of the tea cup. _

_"He's been down there an awfully long time. Do you think he knows that he left his shadow?" Hermione asked as she swam to the middle of the tea cup and grasped Crookshanks' shadow. _

_The ripples in the giant cup of tea smoothed out and she saw herself reflected in its glassy surface. The shadow felt heavy and cold and its inky color saturated the entire cup until she was surrounded by blackness. _

_"Curious." Aleksei mused. "Seems as if you're lost." Hermione looked up to him and noticed that he was getting further and further away. _

_"Lost? But I'm standing." She replied just before a scream ripped its way from her throat as a hand wrapped around her wrist, grinding her bones together. She looked down into the glassy depths of the ever-expanding pool of tea and saw Ron staring back at her. His mouth opened unnaturally wide into a large grin and he spoke at her._

_"You have no idea what you're doing and you're alone." His voice came out watery and dense. Shadow overtook his pale face and his eyes and teeth gleamed white against black skin. He rose from the still water. "You're hopeless. I'm eating at you're insides and you have no one else to turn to." As he continued, his voice grew darker and the darkness started to encroach the edges of her vision. _

_"No!" She screamed. Her throat felt raw and sounded far away. _

_"No! No! No! No!" Long, sharp, clawed hands clutched her arms to her side and ripped her under the water. The still pond turned into a raging tempest and she was in the middle of a black ocean. Blackness clawed at her arms and legs and pulled her under and under and under. Great currents turned her head of heels and the darkness invaded her lungs. She didn't know which was way up. _

_The surface was disappearing and there was no light; just the crash and crash of waves and the laughter. _

Suddenly, Hermione flailed as she fell down onto the cold stone floor. Crookshanks was up and in his full form, growling with hackles raised at the darkest part of her cottage. The box where she held it all seemed to suck the light out of everything. Aleksei materialized in front of her protectively, and with a wave of his hand ignited every light and sent a blast of his power into the corner, effectively re-establishing her wards.

When the darkness retreated into the little wooden box, Hermione grabbed onto Aleksei's shirt and sobbed. He turned and held her in his long arms against his warm chest and held out a hand to Crookshanks; who in his domesticated cat form jumped into the arms of the sobbing child and they disappeared with a clap of thunder.

Hermione apparated into a small flat in London, holding a very displeased cat and clutching her wand to her chest; and cried out: "Luna! Luna!"

A crash was heard from a room down the hall followed by a mumbled explanation and Luna Lovegood's bedroom door burst open as a small, blonde woman came running down into her living room to discover a very broken Hermione. She simply gathered her in her tiny arms and rocked back and forth.

Hermione's chest was heavy and her heart ached and everything was very hard to focus on. Tears and snot made it impossible to make any coherent sentence and she kept a death grip on Crookshanks, who blessedly chose to remain quiet.

"Luna, what is it?" A voice came from the hallway and a shirtless Blaise came in to see his Luna holding a hysterical Hermione. "It's happening again?" Luna nodded.

Hermione's sobs were reduced to hiccups and sniffles under the hands of Luna and the reassuring words whispered into her ear. She began whispering, more to herself than the others in the room.

"It's so dark. It's all dark. Blackness. Just black. It's dark. It's dark…..so dark." Several minutes passed as Luna just held her friend and Blaise set about to find a blanket to wrap the small girl in. When she finally cried herself to sleep, he carried her to bed and Luna crawled in after Hermione and held her.

"I'll go. Contact me when she wakes up." Blaise said before brushing a stray hair from Luna's face and covering the two up.

Hermione drifted off again, cat between her and her best friend, and Aleksei hovering at the window, ever watchful.

**AN:  
Hello again! Read all that? Aren't you just EXHAUSTED? I just wanted to put the translation of that Russian lullaby on here for you to enjoy. Until next time!  
There's a green oak-tree by the shores  
Of the blue bay; on a gold chain,  
The cat, learned in the fable stories,  
Walks round the tree in ceaseless strain:  
Moves to the right – a song it groans,  
Moves to the left – it tells a tale.  
There're marvels there: the wood-spite roams,  
Midst branches shines the mermaids' tail;  
There are the strangest creatures' traces  
On the mysterious paths and moors;  
There stands a hut on hen's legs, hairless,  
Without windows and doors;  
There visions fill a vale and forest;  
There, at a dawn, come waves, the coldest,  
On the deserted sandy shore,  
And thirty knights, in armors shone,  
Come out the clear waves in a colon,  
And their sea-tutor – them before;  
There a brave prince, in a fight, shortest,  
Makes to surrender a king, dread;  
There, to men' views, a wizard, worthless,  
O'er woods and seas, through clouds, aired,  
Carries a worrier on his beard;  
A princess pines away in prison,  
And a wolf serves her without treason;  
A mortar, with a witch in it,  
Walks as if having somewhat feet;  
There's King Kashchey, o'er his gold withered;  
There's Russian odour… Russian spirit!  
And I there sat: I drank sweet mead,  
Saw, near the sea, the green oak, growing,  
Under it heard a cat, much-knowing,  
Talking me its long stories' set.  
Having recalled one of its stories,  
I'll recite it to the world, glorious…**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Oh, my beautiful, patient readers. I am truthfully sorry it took me so long to get this out and that it's short. I moved, had a birthday, then a full week of tests, and by the time I was free I was feeling a tad hopeless in regards to writing. But I just had to give you something. My spring break should be coming up soon, and with no school or anything else to bother me, I'm hoping to write a ton as an apology.  
I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I really appreciate your reviews. You all make me very happy, and I hope each of you is doing splendidly. **  
**Allow me to take the time to thank roseberrygirl for reviewing and being so sweet. Thank you so much, darling!**

Luna fancied herself to be a friend to anyone who needed one. Though she did not know it, she was quite the friend indeed. And for all the people she had been friends too, Hermione Granger was the only one so far who had made the move to be a friend back. It was because of this that Luna found herself loving Hermione; and subsequently very protective and almost motherly towards her.

Well, as motherly as someone who busied herself with Nargals could be.

It was in the early morning hours, as the sun began to peek through her blinds that Luna found herself wide awake; brushing and smoothing a sleeping Hermione's riotous hair while she reminisced of the beginning of their friendship.

_Some five years prior in May:_

_The day was a perfectly good one, and an even better one to catch some gnomes for questioning, and Luna had her new leather gloves on to help protect her small hands from bites. She had been wandering along the green hills in the southeasterly piece of England when she had happened upon Hermione Granger. Fleetingly, she knew Hermione had been missing for some months and was less surprised and simply was only moderately intrigued._

_There Hermione was, lying on her back on the side of a great hill, mumbling to herself and picking grass apart. A strange activity, to be sure, but one Luna found to be not nearly as strange as people who wore the colour gunmetal-grey._

_Any normal person who would have come upon Hermione would have probably not said much of anything. Luna, however, had by no means the qualities one needed to be classified as 'normal,' and therefore, promptly sat down next to Hermione and began picking grass with her._

_A handful of grass and a set of stained fingers later, Luna was invited for tea and the two began a tentative friendship. Luna called on Hermione for advice on how to deal with her gnome infestation, and Hermione sought her out for playful banter and a hand in potion experimentation. _

Hermione slept on; the soft smoothing of her hair keeping the wakefulness at bay, and Luna smiled. If it weren't for Hermione, Luna wouldn't have met Blaise and learnt of who he had become.

For that, she was grateful.

It took quite a bit of time for Draco to come to terms with all he'd learnt of his company and of life in general. He was dealing with some serious life-changing revelations, and so, days passed where he did nothing.

Or course by nothing, he just went about doing what he had been doing prior to what he now calls, "The Incident" and what Hermione will later rephrase to, "The Day the World was No Longer Draco-Centric."

As he was told, Mumford had the report on Draco's desk and had kept his mouth shut when Draco had returned. With his tail tucked firmly between his legs, Mumford had resigned to desk work for the week in hopes that his slip-up didn't lose him his job.

Draco was fine, if not pleased, that he had the full workload; it took his mind off things. He threw himself into his work. Draco poured blood sweat and tears into his work that week; and two cursed items from an old abandoned Death-Eater hide-out and the apprehension of a mole in his office later, Draco was feeling steadily more and more in control.

He felt all of this, including a subtle nagging of curiosity somewhere in the back of his mind.

It was that night in which Draco lay in his bed, oppressive hair slicking his hair to his forehead that Draco found himself entertaining that curiosity by replaying the day excursion he had with Granger. He cursed his brain for bringing up such a puzzle while he was trying to sleep, but his brain continued on making him think.

He damned his above-average intelligence.

Draco had always been one for puzzles and intrigue and Hermione Granger had qualities that allowed her to be the perfect combination of the two. He was having a terrible time getting past the fact that it just had to be Granger that would spark his interest.

His curiosity was about to manifest into an actual itch and he knew he'd succumb to the enigma that is Granger sooner or later.

Draco was just now trying to take steps to not be like his father, that and Granger's admission about believing them to be intellectual equals belied his mental fidgeting at having to deal with her.

If Draco were to be honest with himself, there was no real reason to avoid Granger. Even the way she'd treated him in school, like the surprisingly solid punch to the nose, had been in retaliation to his own deplorable behavior. That aside, if he could repress his natural tendency to be an awful git, Granger and him had potential to be perfectly civil.

The way Draco saw it, his life was pretty static. Since the war, everything else became horrendously monotonous. The dangerous job of location cursed items and arresting Death Eaters was the only thing that kept his heart pounding. That is, until recently.

Hermione Granger's secrets could provide the right kind of escape from the uniform action of his life.

With his mind made up, Draco Malfoy rolled over in his bed and kicked the stifling sheets from his slick legs and drifted off to sleep, thoughts set firmly on unraveling the mystery that is Hermione Granger.  
_

"Care for some more red sauce?"

Hermione nodded absently as Luna gave her another helping of garlic spaghetti sauce over her noodles as she absently chewed on her toast and strawberry jam.

Hermione had been woken up to find herself in Luna's flat once again; and this time, it was to the smell of tea, toast, and spaghetti. The pairing was new, but not unusual. Luna loved cooking the first thing that came to mind when she got up, and Hermione loved that about Luna.

Hermione supposed that what she loved the most about Luna was her ability to not overthink anything, and simply do whatever she wanted to at that moment. Of course, this activity also meant a lot of odd outfits, hobbies, and food.

"Sorry."

Luna looked up at her blankly as she sat, and covered a piece of toast unseeingly. She offered a very bright smile and licked her knife clean.

"For coming by? You know I'd like you to come over more often."

"I meant for that…episode. This is the first place I think of when it happens."

"Mm. More tea?"

Hermione sighed. Luna was never upset when it came to Hermione, and she never really pried into her mind when she had an 'episode.' In reality, Luna only figured that Hermione would talk about it when she was good and ready.

"Yes please."

They ate and drank in silence for a while. Luna was pleasantly silent, and soon breakfast was over and Luna was seeing Hermione off with a lunch of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches in tow.

She appeared in front of her small cottage with eyes closed and passed a hand over her face, then sighed. Hermione would've liked nothing more than to have told someone about her problem. She was close to a breaking point, her willpower felt like a thin thread stretched taut, a single misstep and she'd break. Yet, she knew that she couldn't just share the load, she didn't want to hurt anyone; even if it killed her.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself to be within scant inches of the small girl Rose.

**An: *HUGS***


End file.
